The Tamarind Complex
by lavenderthyme
Summary: Upon running into legal issues after his Golden Ticket promotion, Willy Wonka seeks legal consultation from Laura Tasis, a seasoned lawyer who frowns upon the frivolity of Mr. Wonka's means of practice. Despite their inherent differences, Wonka and Tasis find equal grounds in their attachment to their respective work and learn something about what it means to love.
1. Ingredients

Laura Tasis was quite struck by the view provided from the gate of the Wonka Factory. She was not struck in the way that many a passersby often were - dumb with awe and astonishment at the mere size of the plant - instead, she was struck by the frivolity of its construction. Laura shook her head as she took in its flamboyantly arched windows and superfluous smoke stacks from which puffy, pink streams of exhaust chugged.

 _Even the pollution resembles cotton candy,_ she thought drily.

She brought her watch before her face for the third time in as many minutes as if hoping to find her client guilty of tardiness. Perhaps, however, she simply wanted to get all of her money out of the $500 watch - one could not blame her for _that_.

Laura was denied the personal gratification of being able to scold her client for such a crime when a hatted blond head poked through an opened door and wiggled a gloved finger in a "come hither" motion before promptly shutting the door again. The lawyer, already annoyed with the state of the business trip, pulled open the grand iron gate and walked the cobbled driveway toward the wooden door from whence the candymaker had appeared. When the door did not open upon her arrival, she knocked impatiently upon it. It swung open before Laura's fist could thrice strike it, and she wandered in.

Immediately inside the doorway stood the grinning candyman, his hand outstretched.

"Miss Tasis, Miss Tasis! A pleasure, truly. I had _hoped_ for a clever lawyer, you see. I specifically asked for one. I can tell you're to be a good one - one can always tell with these things." All the while, the candyman shook Laura's hand with an ardent vigor - the lawyer could only plead for her humerus to remain en joint. "Please do follow me. We have a lot to talk about - I've gotten myself into quick a sticky mess, I'm afraid. It's gotten so bad that I've quit taffy - one cannot appreciate so much stickiness at a time like this!"

Laura was astounded by the mere velocity and zeal behind Mr. Willy Wonka's gibberish. That was quite exactly as she saw it, mind you: gibberish. She inspected the candymaker's appearance with wonder; his great coat was a violent shade of purple, and though it was well tailored, it was quite ridiculous. His curly, blond hair stuck out from under his hat in every possible direction, bouncing candidly with every bounding step. _What a strange man!_

"I suppose I should take you for a tour first, yes? It's not every day that I welcome a guest, you see. I'm quite excited to hear your ideas -"

"Mr. Wonka, that won't be necessary," Laura interrupted, causing him to turn around with a surprised frown. "I'm here to clear up your legal complaints, not engage in folly."

"'Not engage in folly'!" He stared at her as if she had just stomped upon one of his Luminous Lollies. "Miss Tasis, I'm having trouble understanding! Do you enjoy your work so _little_ that you are afraid of having fun during it?"

"Of course I enjoy my work," Laura snapped back. "That doesn't mean that I must enjoy _yours_ , however."

Mr. Wonka stared for a moment, his countenance completely bare. Laura stood, slightly uncomfortable under his stare. Instead of shying back, however, she lifted her chin and met his unsettlingly blue eyes defiantly. She was almost beginning to consider turning around and taking her leave when the candymaker's mouth gradually broke into a smile, which then turned into a dazzling grin.

"You _are_ a good one. Awfully clever, awfully clever. Please continue to follow me. We'll skip the tour. Let me know if you change your mind." He then spun around and continued to waltz down the slim corridor, tapping his redundant cane on the walls haphazardly as he went. Laura could _swear_ she heard him giggle.


	2. Recipe

The interior of the factory was exactly as Laura had expected (meaning that it was beyond anything she could have imagined). Upon vacating the claustrophobic, intensely patterned hallway that they had initially entered, Wonka led the lawyer into a small, albeit tall, cavernous room with pink lighting. The red carpeted floor on which they had walked to this point stopped abruptly and turned into a white tiled floor. The room opened across from them into a canal flowing with murky, brown water; a boat, which specifically reminded Laura of a carousel, bobbed in the water with vigor of the current.

"Mr. Wonka, sir! Your water is _horribly_ polluted! You've not had lawsuits over the state of this river alone?"

Mr. Wonka grinned knowingly at the lawyer - it was quite obvious that he'd heard comments of the like before.

"Oh, _dear_ Laura - may I call you that, Laura?"

"No."  
"-the river is entirely made of gooey, delicious, scrumptious _chocolate_ , dear Laura!"

" _Miss Tasis_."

Wonka simply ignored Laura's frustration as he made a swift skipping movement towards the whimsical boat which sat upon the chocolate stream. "Come now, I know we both have busy schedules, Laura. We absolutely _must_ n't dawdle, especially when there is _so_ much to talk about."

Laura bit her tongue, following the candymaker onto the ship. The boat began moving as soon as the two boarded, drifting at a leisurely pace down the sugary river under the colorful, brick tunneled ceiling. It took only seconds for Laura to feel the stickiness left on her hand after she placed it on the railing.

"Mr. Wonka, is this not a most unsanitary practice!" she exclaimed. "You're creating an inevitable breeding ground for bacteria by using a _candy_ boat to transport actual people on! Not to mention, all bacteria is easily spread into your chocolate stream!"

"I'm glad you've asked about that, I really am. I have not yet introduced this invention to the public, but I've created a type of lollipop that will last unwrapped for as long as you need it to! Imagine _that!_ Being able to lick your lollipop a few times and then place it away overnight without fear that those _dreadful_ microscopic bugs trying to get at it! I've decided to name it a Lick and Leave Lollipop. That's what this entire _boat_ is made out of!"

"Mr. Wonka, are you suggesting a permanently sterilized confection?"

" _Precisely!_ "

"But, Mr. Wonka, I simply don't believe that! Doctors- surgeons- all medical professionals have been searching for something like that for _years!_ "

The candymaker smiled and tapped his head. "They're simply not thinking big enough. You must think big to catch those tiny, _ghastly_ little critters."

"You're making absolutely no sense, Mr. Wonka," Laura said, exasperated, looking over her shoulder in hopes of seeing their destination in the near future.

"What is this 'Mr. Wonka' business? I thought we were on a first name basis," Wonka returned, flipping subjects abruptly.

"You calling me by my first name out of nowhere does not initiate a first name basis. It's inappropriate."

"That's exactly what it does! By definition!" the candymaker exclaimed, waving his hands at either side with a triumphant grin. "Call me Willy, _please_."

Laura's austere countenance broke for just a moment, her lips breaking into a slight smile - while it was only a light, second-long smile, Mr. Wonka caught it.

"I am _not_ calling you Willy," she returned, turning her face to look out the opening of the boat's spiralled railings as if to conceal her expression.

That was the end of the conversation (or perhaps simply a pause, caused by an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object).

The boat led the two in front of another tiled walkway, this one evolving into a short hallway with a large red door at the end that was visible from the stream. Laura followed the candyman onto the tile, refusing the hand offered to help her up - whether through ignorance of its presence or stubborn independence - and crossed her fingers in hopes that the red door was that of his office.

"Let's get down to business," Wonka chirped, opening the red door for Laura. "Please, sit down anywhere - I'll grab all of the paperwork, and we'll have this sorted out before you can spell _koraysicalers_."

 _Finally_ , thought Laura, relieved. She followed Willy into the room and looked for a seat - upon doing so, she realized that every piece of furniture and decoration in the study had been cut neatly in half and thus only half remained. The clock on the wall ticked on as if unaware of its uselessness, and stuffing bulged from underneath the couch's upholstery.

"Where on _earth_ has the other half of your room gone?" Laura asked, caught up in her confusion. She checked herself afterwards, however: Was she _truly_ surprised at this point?

Wonka grinned as he took a seat - or half of one - on a physics-defying wooden chair opposite from where Laura stood. "It's funny you ask that, dear Laura. When I constructed this factory, I made _sure_ that no room was like another - I was so caught up in the designs of the rooms of the golden geese and the shaving cream that I did not stop to think about how _my_ room should be." He paused dramatically. "I couldn't possible allow for one ordinary, _boring_ room in my magnificent factory - so I made the executive decision to cut everything in half and donate the other half to charity."

"What can a charity possibly do with half of a chair?" Laura asked, crossing her arms.

"A whole lot more than they can do with none of one!"

The lawyer sighed and took a seat on the couch across from the candyman. She opened her briefcase and pulled out the materials that she had collected and sorted beforehand, taking care to organize them accordingly on the coffee table before her so that they faced Wonka. Laura then pulled three pens from her jacket pocket - one red, one blue, and one black - and lay them neatly next to her notepad.

"I want to just clarify the matter at hand before we begin, so we can prime our brains," she began, entering her 'working mode'. "Correct me at any point. You have received complaints from four families of children who had toured your factory under the "golden ticket" promotion - the complaints consisted of accusations of the injuring of four children, one belonging to each of the respective families, and a failure to return the children back to their original state despite medical action."

Wonka, who stared at Laura with electric blue eyes as she spoke with a nod, shrug, or huff here and there, responded in defense. "I made them sign a waiver beforehand, you see!" he declared, shoving a mammoth, rolled-up sheet of parchment towards Laura. "It expressed their consent to taking full responsibility for anything that may occur within the my factory during the tour, and required that they _not_ hold me legally responsible for any mishaps that may take place."

Laura pushed the parchment aside, jotting down a few notes in blue pen before responding. "I've read the waiver, Mr. Wonka - I only wish that you would've had someone from our firm draft it, you see, for while you _did_ require the families to take responsibility for any accidents that occurred during the tour, they did _not_ give you written or signed permission to _operate_ upon their children after these accidents occurred. Just think of the consequences there! If you had left little Mike Teevee little, or Violet Beauregarde plump, you would not have been liable for their current condition! When you stretched Mike and juiced Violet, you became inherently responsible for their post-tour conditions."

Willy pursed his lips and gave an indifferent shrug. He uncrossed his legs and stood, walking over his halved desk where he opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of fizzing, violet liquid. "Would you care for a drink, Miss Laura? This beverage has been developing for a while, and I think I have it just right. It's not alcoholic-" he paused, giving a small smile - "but it might as well be."

"No, thank you."

Willy poured her one anyhow, placing their glasses on the table.

"Where were we, again?"

They worked for the next hour - every defense or suggestion thrown forward by Mr. Wonka was immediately shot down by Laura's knowledge of the waiver and the laws that applied. Willy, though irrefutably impressed, began to grow tired of the back-and-forth that seemed to give way to absolutely no progress at all. He, unlike Laura, wanted to see immediate results and solutions - but, as the lawyer pointed out, lawsuits were not completely unlike taffy: while one cannot coat them in sugar, as done with taffy, to make them less sticky, stretching them out makes them all the more bearable to chew. Under this logic, she began to point out all of the compromises that were possible in his scenario - at which point Willy grew so bored of the jargon and technicalities that Laura knew it was time to take a break.


	3. Dry Ingredients

Against her better judgement, Laura had taken a sip from the violaceous drink set before her, which she immediately felt better her mood. After a few more sips, she was visibly more relaxed - she even slouched slightly into the couch's overstuffed cushions, taking off her shoes before curling her feet up beside her. She had never been partial to alcohol or narcotics at any point in her life, for she knew their dangers very well, and only enjoyed the occasional drink at office functions or family celebrations - because of this, the sensation provided by the fizzing, purple drink was entirely alien to her. She admittedly enjoyed the sensation, for it felt as if her perception of the room and the man before her was enhanced somehow; the way her vision moved around the room seemed much more rapid, as if it jumped from object to object, and the yellow and gray striped wallpaper seemed to swim around her mirthfully. Laura ran her hand over the couch's cushion, entranced by the tingling feeling that the action provided her fingertips. Despite her disoriented state, Laura didn't feel happy, per say - she felt as if she was not in control of her body or mind, and while it was not an entirely unwelcome feeling, she was not partial to its uninhibited nature. It was this unfettered state that caused Laura to converse freely.

"Tell me, Mr. Wonka, why did you hold such a peculiar promotion in the first place? What were you hoping to gain from letting five children tour your factory?"

Willy, noting the change in Laura's demeanor in latent contentment, twirled his hat between his hands before answering. "I wanted to find an heir for my factory, you see."

"I see." She considered this for a moment, resting her chin on the heel of her hand. "A child, then? Why a child?"

"Because if I had found a stubborn, old adult they would have torn down everything I worked so hard for," he replied with animosity, gesturing wildly with his hands. "They would have started anew - doing everything their way instead of mine. If I could find a child to run the factory when I retire, I would be able to teach them how to run the factory my way!" Willy's eyes glimmered as he said this, gauging Laura's reaction to what he had long considered his most brilliant idea yet. Her face did not shine with admiration, to his dismay - instead, it displayed a definite shade of irritation.

"You're essentially employing a brainwashing tactic, Mr. Wonka!" she huffed. "Are you truly unable to bear the thought of a successor who wishes to run the factory in a way of their own? That's… that's glaringly egocentric, Mr. Wonka!"

Willy was shocked at the accusation. Even Laura didn't know from where her outburst came, but she was feeling disoriented to a point where she felt no reason to question it, and especially none to double back on it.

Wonka himself was even most unsettled by the fact that she had introduced a thought he had not before meditated: was he right do such a thing?

He quickly shoved the thought away, as one does when faced with an unsavory yet familiar accusation. His countenance had darkened then, though, which Laura noticed immediately, causing her to shift further into her seat (though she maintained her confident posture, learned through much rehearsal).

May it be noted that Wonka had been all but isolated for many years, with the exceptions of only a few close acquaintances, necessary visitors (such as inspectors and repairmen to take care of the problems that neither he nor his workers could address), and the oompa loompas. Thus, he was not often subject to criticism, and even less often subject to criticism of ideas so dear to his personal philosophy, through which he executed the procedure of his factory. Laura's criticism struck him as rude and, all together, inaccurate.

All of these thoughts whirled throughout the room within a second, providing for a momentary build of tension so palpable that Laura felt herself sober considerably. She shifted again in her seat, this time transferring her feet from the cushion to her shoes on the floor before her in an act that displayed a return of self-awareness.

In turn, Wonka stood and looked down to Laura, meeting her eyes before he turned to sit behind his desk. As he began scribbling on the papers before him, evidently through with the conversation before it began, Laura heard him murmur: "Ah! happy boughs that cannot shed your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu."

At this point, Laura felt that she had overstayed her welcome and began packing her things, quite surprised by the sudden - and informal - dismissal. She tried not to think much of it; she simply hoped that she had not offended Mr. Wonka to the point where further work would prove punishing.

"Good day, Mr. Wonka. Thank you for your work today - I will see you two days from now."

"Thank you, Miss Tasis. You'll find the exit up the stairs. Good day."

And so she did.

[Author's note: The line recited by Wonka is part of Keats' "Ode on a Grecian Urn". The poem is a response to Shelley's "Ozymandias", which addresses the impermanent nature of man's conquest and efforts to build lasting monuments by describing a statue of Ramesses II (who is widely regarded as Egypt's most powerful and formidable pharaoh), of which only two legs and a decapitated head remains. In Keats' response, "Ode on a Grecian Urn" (to which Wonka's reference belongs), he refutes the idea that man's efforts to build empires will always fall victim to time by arguing that empires will always be remembered and continued through their art (here, he uses the example of a Grecian urn, which still has relevance today). Do with this information what you will. (;  
I apologize for the succinct nature of this chapter - I tend to sacrifice length consistency for natural stopping points. I hope you're enjoying the story - it is a fun write, I will say. Thanks for reading!]


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